Need You Now
by angelically-devilish
Summary: SiriusHermione All she could do was remember. All he wanted was to forget. Inspired by Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now".
1. Lost All Control

**A/N:** I know I already have 2 HGSB WIPs right now, but this one's just a 3-part ficlet. Inspired by Lady Antebellum's _Need You Now_.

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**I Need You Now**

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**Part One – Lost All Control**

_Fire…_

Dancing, flickering flames licked at the edges of glossy parchment, the corners curling before being engulfed by the heat.

_Passion…_

Another photograph fluttered into the inferno, barely touching the logs before bursting into flame. The subjects of each photograph – the same man and woman – disappeared in a puff of grey smoke.

_Need…_

The hand that held the stack of doomed photographs shook slightly as soft hazel eyes swept over an identical pair, just as soft, in the photograph. There was a laughter in those eyes that was absent now. With a sigh, the eyes turned their gaze to the other pair of eyes in the photo – a twinkling steel flecked with incandescent azure – and upon the viewing of those eyes the hazel started to water, the photograph floating into the fire.

_Hunger…_

A quick intake of air and accompanying sob stopped the steady destruction of heartbreaking picture-perfect memories. She dropped them as she brought her hands to her mouth to try and stifle the now-deep sobs violently wracking her body. The photographs scattered, falling softly to the floor.

_Inhale…Exhale…_

As she stood somewhat unsteadily from her perch in front of the fire, Hermione Granger caught sight of a photograph she had almost forgotten about. Stooping down to pick it up, she had to smile as she watched a slightly younger version of herself run happily through a dappled grove, the setting sun giving an almost luminescent quality to her honey-brown curls. The girl in the picture – a different girl from the young woman who was now watching nostalgically – would occasionally turn, hazel eyes casting a laughing challenge to the photographer before resuming her half-hearted attempt at escape.

_Remember…_

That day had been the start. The first photograph in a string of captured moments that had consumed her life for two years; consumed it with a fire, passion, need, and _hunger_ just as insatiable and unstoppable as the flickering flames in front of her. And she had lost herself in it – so completely – that very first sun-drenched afternoon…

* * *

"Honestly, Sirius, stop," Hermione pleaded as she heard the click of the camera capture her image as she stood watching Harry and the Weasleys play Quidditch in the orchard.

"No can do, love. The camera adores you," the handsome animagus replied, snapping photo after photo until she glared at him.

"Aren't there more interesting specimens for you to antagonize? The garden gnomes, perhaps?" she asked, exasperated.

"They're not nearly as pretty as you, kitten," was his easy reply, followed by the click of the camera.

Hermione felt a faint blush creep up her neck, and she turned back to the game to watch her friends show off their athletic prowess in order to avoid looking at him. A few moments of appreciative silence passed before she heard the click of the camera once more.

"Sirius!" she cried, turning to glare at him again.

"Oh! Don't move, kitten. The light is absolutely perfect."

"I really wish Harry hadn't bough you that damned thing," she sighed, crossing her arms in annoyance as she waited for him to take what felt like his hundredth picture of her.

"Try and smile, love. It won't kill you."

"Leave her be, Sirius," Remus gently admonished from beside them. "You know how she hates having her photograph taken."

"Yeah," his very pregnant wife agreed. "You're lucky she hasn't run away like she normally does."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Hermione mumbled, sending a thankful smile to her two friends.

*CLICK*

"Aha! Caught you smiling, kitten," Sirius said triumphantly, finally emerging from behind the instrument to cast the frustrated bookworm a cheeky grin.

"I swear to God, Sirius, you take one more photo of me and I _will_ run," she warned.

"Then I'll just have to chase after you, won't I?"

Hermione couldn't help the small thrill that went through her at the idea of Sirius chasing her through the secluded apple grove to abate his unexplainable desire to memorialize her on film. While she had found it somewhat annoying, she had to admit that it was the constant attention – his artistic eye consistently watching her – that was making her more flustered than the actual picture-taking.

It gave her a false sense of hope that she even stood a chance with the sinfully-gorgeous older man.

*CLICK*

"Right," Hermione said, looking straight at the now-aimed camera. "I'm leaving."

She turned on her heel, her heavy head of curls flipping dramatically over her shoulder as she walked into the grove, making her way back to the house. She wasn't so much annoyed with his persistence as much as in dire need of a cool down after being the sole subject of interest to possibly the sexiest man alive.

"Hermione!" a deep baritone called, and Hermione almost tripped over her own feet at the sound of his voice.

Was he _really_ following her?

"Hermione, love, I'm sorry," he said, touching her shoulder gently to stop her movement. "It's just…well…I've never found anyone who I – the camera, that is – find so…intriguing."

An odd feeling of realization swept over Hermione, though she was unsure she dared to believe it true. The signals were definitely there – unnecessary individual attention, affectionate nicknames, slightly possessive behaviour – but she could never tell with Sirius. So she took a deep breath and turned around to face him.

"I'll let you take as many photos as you want," she whispered huskily, "If you can catch me."

She sent him a brilliant smile before taking off, praying that she hadn't just made a complete fool of herself. Her heart leapt when she heard deep laughter, the sound of heavy footsteps behind her, and the constant click of the camera.

"I don't know, kitten, I might just let you run because you're most becoming from this angle."

She turned her head to say something cheeky, but the sight of him trying to run with the camera to his face made her laugh. The camera clicked again and she turned back to her purpose.

She had barely gone five steps when a large, demanding pair of hands gripped her hips. She lost her balance, the inertia of their movement pitching them forward. Hermione felt an arm wrap around her as they tumbled, but instead of hitting the ground, she landed on top of Sirius. The camera bounced gently on the leafy earth, stopping just feet from them.

Sirius was grinning.

"I suppose you should consider yourself caught, kitten," he said, his words rolling smoothly from his lips as his eyes – those beautiful blue-steel eyes – swept over her body. She smiled, reaching out and grabbing the camera from the ground and holding it out to him.

"Snap away, Ansel Adams," she replied.

He looked at her for a minute before softly batting the camera out of her hands and leaning up, catching her lips with his as he cupped her cheek with his hand. She inhaled sharply, unsure if she had fallen down her own personal rabbit hole, her imagination conjuring the sensory Wonderland.

But as Sirius rolled on top of her, pinning her to the ground with his lean, lithe body beneath the swaying shelter of the fruit trees, Hermione knew it was too real to be a figment of her admittedly-overactive fantasy life. She could taste the faint burn of the post-lunch peppermint they had all indulged in – a treat from Harry and Ginny from their family holiday in Switzerland. She could smell the cut grass, sandalwood, and dark spice that was his unique cologne. She could hear the deep rumble of desire as he pulled away with her name on his tongue; could see the sparkle of affection in his eyes.

She could feel the smooth, hard skin as her searching fingers delved beneath leather, cotton and denim to find what she wanted.

"I rather think you're not the only one who's caught, kitten," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

"What a catch," she replied before kissing him again.

* * *

They had made love in the orchard, among the leaves and the distant cry of happy, blissfully-ignorant voices. They had rejoined their friends later, most of them unaware that they had even disappeared. Only Remus and Tonks gave them both knowing looks, Remus seemingly more away of the true nature of their absence, if his warning looks to Sirius were any indication.

Hermione sighed as she gazed into the fire, the photograph still clutched in her hand. For awhile it had seemed like Remus's warning looks had been unnecessary. Sirius was devoted to Hermione, almost trailing after her from day one. Within a month, Hermione's room in Grimmauld Place had all but been abandoned. They could often be found cuddling together and talking in the living room, or reading quietly in the library. Sirius had even convinced Hermione into something of a social life, coaxing her out to drinks with the twins in Diagon Alley; dinners with Bill and Fleur, or Remus and Tonks; and once – in what she staunchly _insisted_ was a moment of weakness – a night of dancing.

Hermione, in turn, gave Sirius a more grounded lifestyle. After actually seeing the prints he had taken of her, she suggested that Sirius pursue photography. He had the means to live several lifetimes unemployed and unproductive, but she knew him well enough to know it wouldn't have been the wisest course for him. So she subtly suggested a less potentially destructive path by encouraging his photography, which he took to swimmingly. Within the year, he was doing freelance work for the _Daily Prophet_ and had worked with Luna Lovegood providing his talented eye to some of her less outrageous naturalist claims.

A soft tapping on the window pulled Hermione from her reverie, and she chastised herself for wandering so far down memory lane. It was all ancient history as far as she was concerned – not to be trifled with but learned from. It did no one any good living in the past.

Opening her window, a beautiful black owl swooped regally in. Hermione immediately felt her back stiffen and her muscles tense as she recognized the magnificent creature. Dowen, Sirius's owl, sat politely on the kitchen table, his leg held out for her to remove the scroll. Swallowing hard, Hermione moved forward, taking the parchment from the bird and out of habit, stroked his wing. The bird nuzzled into her palm, recognizing the mistress he hadn't seen in awhile. Stifling a sob as waves a fresh, equally painful memories started to come over her, Hermione quickly fed the owl a treat and sent him on his way.

With shaking hands she opened the parchment. The four words written in his familiar, scrawling penmanship made her exhale slowly:

"_I need you now…"_

Closing her eyes, Hermione dropped the parchment on the table, turned on her heel, and left the kitchen.

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_Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!_


	2. Picture Perfect Memories

**A/N:** *heaves deep sigh* Okay. 3 jobs, 2 moves, a musical, & an on-and-off sickness has only been the tip of the iceberg in terms of what I've been going through in the past 5 months, so a thousand apologies that this has not been updated. Luckily, there's only one more part to worry about, so hopefully (when I have internet back, which has also been a trial) I'll be able to update with more frequency.

Also - this is unbeta'd. I don't want to hear about all of my mistakes. I'm a proficient enough editor in my own right that the spelling/grammar issues that get through are not going to detract from the story, or are obvious enough that you can make sense of them. So please don't leave me a review telling me all the grammar/spelling things I did wrong. I know there's some. But unless there's a huge, glaring plot point issue, I'd let it slide.

Thanks. Enjoy.

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Part Two – Picture-Perfect Memories**

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6 months before the end…_

"Tell me what our baby would be like," Hermione asked softly, the sweet whisper of a lover as they lay in bed, bare limbs entangled in their post-coital bliss. They had been listening to the quiet of the sleeping house, the deep sighs of Grimmauld Place signalling their sole consciousness amidst the world of dreams.

"Like you," Sirius replied, a smile in his voice as his hands sifted gently through tangled curls. "Like you, because you're perfect."

"None of you? Not even a little?"

"They wouldn't need any of me. They'd have you."

The arm around her body was loose and relaxed. She turned in his embrace, propping herself up on her elbow to look down at him. She ran a finger down the bridge of his nose, over the stately angles of his chiselled face, and caressed his full lips. He kissed her fingertips, the grey-azure eyes looking up at her filled with love and adoration.

"I should hope they would have _something_ of yours," she said with a small smile. "Could you imagine children that were exactly like me? They need the influence of a less neurotic being."

He chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

"I suppose you're right. I'd be outnumbered in a house of swotty little know-it-alls. Best they develop a personality like mine."

She smiled.

"I hardly think it's fair to people the world with children who look like me but act like you. I'll go grey before I turn forty. No no, let them have their father's sinfully-gorgeous looks and their mother's common sense."

"A common sense that needs to be examined, considering you've spent the past year and a half with me."

"Well, that's because for some reason I'm head over heels in love with you. God knows why."

"Thanks, sweetheart. I love you too."

A year and a half had passed since their clandestine afternoon amidst the leaves and shadows of the Burrow's orchard. A year and a half and their whispered sweet nothings still filled the night. Sweet whispers that promised the world and the stars and absolutely nothing in the same hushed breath.

"I _do_ love you, you know," she said quietly, dropping a kiss on each of his eyelids before looking at him again.

"I _did_ know, actually," he replied, an easy grin on his face.

She waited for more, for the three words he had said only seconds earlier but that she wanted to hear again, and again. But he said nothing, that maddeningly arrogant grin on his face. She started to scowl, knowing what he was doing, but he just chuckled, snaking his hand around her neck and pulling her down for a deep, passionate kiss.

"You better know by now that I love you desperately, you infuriatingly insecure woman," he whispered, gazing lovingly into her honey-hazel eyes.

"Infuriatingly _insecure_?" she protested, sitting up and putting her hands on her hips in indignation. The scathing look would have worked, had the sheet not slipped to reveal her naked upper body.

He grinned.

"Alright. _Deliciously_ insecure?" he teased, running his fingers up her stomach. She batted them away.

It's not the adjective I have a problem with, Sirius," she huffed. "You think I'm insecure, do you?"

"Aren't you?"

"No, I most certainly am not!"

"Okay."

She looked at him, brow furrowing slightly in uncomprehending frustration at his sudden acquiescence.

"Okay?" she pushed, suddenly unsure and hating herself because it was proving his point.

"Okay," he repeated, his eyes shining with amusement. "You're not insecure."

"Don't patronize me!"

He gave a half-amused, half-exasperated laugh.

"I can't win," he said, sitting up on his elbows. "If I think you're insecure, then I'm a boor. If I say I don't, then you call me patronizing. Perhaps I shouldn't speak at all."

"Oh, if wishing made it so, Sirius Black!" she snapped, though a hint of a smile threatened to show.

He looked into her eyes.

"I want you a little insecure," he said softly. Then he shook his head. "No, that's not true. I want you to be…fragile. Not too much," he added quickly as she started to protest. "But just enough so I know you need me. You're so strong, 'Mione, and sometimes…sometimes _I'm_ insecure. You could have any man you wanted and…I suppose I just want to feel like you're not so strong that I'm replaceable."

She melted slightly, her eyes softening and her body relaxing as she looked into his suddenly-vulnerable face. She swept a lock of his raven hair out of his eyes, cupping his chin as she smiled lovingly down at him.

"And here I thought I had you all figured out, my love," she said. "But just when I think I do, you go and surprise me."

He just blinked up at her and she leaned down, kissing the tip of his nose before placing her hand over his heart.

"I _do_ need you, Sirius, for reasons beyond just your protection from the big bad world." She took his hand and placed it over her heart. "This belongs to you," she whispered. "You and you alone are the reason why it beats. It hurts when you're not around. I need you to keep it beating."

She kissed him, hard and needful. He wrapped his arms around her body, rolling her under him and pulling away just slightly to gaze into her big whisky eyes. He had never loved a woman so completely as he loved her. The thought had scared him at first, scared to relinquish all of his hard-won control but finding it impossible not to. Until that moment, he hadn't known for sure if the total surrender had been mutual.

"Tell me how else you need me," he breathed, his lips descending upon her neck to kiss her smooth, ivory flesh.

"I need your lips to tell me you love me," she whispered, her head falling back against the pillow as he kissed down her neck. "I need your hands to explore me, your eyes to gaze at me as if I'm the only one in your world. I need your smile, your laugh…I need your body to make love to me the way only you can…"

His lips travelled along her collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste the salty tang of her skin at the hallow of her throat. His hands caressed her curves, fingers grazing over straining nipples. Her sharp intake of breath made him shiver as he wrapped his lips around a taught bud.

"I need you to…I need…oh God, Sirius, I need you now…" she begged softly, falling with him into the quiet magic of their love making.

"I love you…" he whispered, enveloping her in his arms as their sighs filled the night.

_

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4 months before the end…_

"Full-time employment, eh Pads? How do you feel about that?"

"It's odd, Moony. For some reason, it seems to agree with me."

"Dear cousin, taking photographs of semi-nude women all day long isn't work for you. It's a bloody dream come true."

"Well…I didn't say there weren't perks."

Remus and Tonks chuckled along with Sirius and Hermione as the four sat in the Lupins' wooded cottage, having tea and discussing Sirius's most recent career move. The master and mistress of the house were seated comfortably in matching his and her plush chairs – a purchase that Sirius had teased as very "old couple" – while the still-going-strong lovebirds sat across from them, cuddled together on the couch. Sirius had a protective arm slung around his lover's petite body, and Hermione's bare feet curled casually beneath her as she leaned against him.

"It's amazing we didn't think of it before, really," Hermione mused, looking up at Sirius. "Fashion photography just seems meant for him."

"I admire your attitude, 'Mione," Tonks said. "I would be beside myself if Remus spent his days around half-dressed, nubile young models."

"Clearly you haven't been to the Ministry recently. It's filled with attractive young things these days. You should see your husband's secretary," Sirius said with mock solemnity, which had Remus giving him the glare the comment deserved while Tonks' head turned accusingly to her husband.

"What happened to Mrs. Merrythorpe?" she demanded, referring to the lovely, round-faced sixty-something woman who had been with Remus for years.

"Nothing happened to Mrs. Merrythorpe, darling. He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Thinks it's funny, which it's not," Remus replied, directing the last sentence to his best friend before turning back to his wife. "And even if, heaven forbid, I was surrounded by nubile young witches, not a one of them would interest me, darling, because you're the only one for me."

"Bullshit," Tonks said bluntly, but gave her husband a loving smile. "But I do love you for saying so." Then she turned back to Hermione, saying, "Honestly, 'Mione, how do you stand the idea of Sirius looking at half-naked women all day?"

The younger witch shrugged.

"I suppose I trust him. Honestly, with his reputation, our relationship wouldn't work if I didn't trust him just a little," she said, smiling slightly as he gave her a withering look. They had had to fight his "reputation" since the beginning of their relationship, and he still hated the fact that people thought he possessed so little self-control.

"Besides," Hermione added, taking a sip of her tea, "Considering the stories he's told me, I have a feeling he isn't the least bit interested in those models he photographs."

Sirius scoffed derisively.

"They're a pain in the arse, the whole lot of them," he said, his face twisted in mild disgust. "They're spoiled, selfish, ungrateful little harpies who do nothing but complain. I'm telling you, Tonks, it's not nearly as elegant and glamorous as you'd think. They may be only partially-clothed, but they might as well be fully-dressed for all the personal attention I'm willing to give them."

"And the underwear shoots? Don't tell me you're not the least bit tempted then," Tonks pushed.

"Not at all. In fact, this job has almost ruined lingerie for me. Lingerie is like…I don't know, sausage-making."

Hermione, who had heard the rant before, just shook her head with a small smile but Remus and Tonks stared at him.

"What on earth…? Sausage-making?" Remus finally asked.

"Yes. I mean, I enjoy sausages. You enjoy sausages. But neither of us really wants to see how it's made, right?"

"Yes…"

"So the same goes for lingerie. I enjoy lingerie, but I don't need to know the details behind how it's presented."

There was a moment of pause before both Remus and Tonks shifted their gaze to Hermione for clarification.

Hermione chuckled.

"Sirius seemed to be under the impression that lingerie was both easy to wear and comfortable. You should have seen his face when he came home from the lingerie shoot where the models were all complaining about how uncomfortable it was and how the colour didn't flatter them. He looked like a child who'd just been told Father Christmas didn't exist."

Remus started laughing, but Tonks turned to Sirius.

"You thought lingerie was easy to wear and _comfortable_?" she asked incredulously.

Sirius threw his hands in the air.

"It's not like I've done a comparative study on how it feels to wear! Honestly, it's not like you're wearing it for that long anyway…" he grumbled, and Hermione laughed as she lay her head on his shoulder.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll still wear some for you every now and then if you'd like," she said softly.

Sirius pouted.

"Nope. It's ruined. No use now."

"Hmm…perhaps I should just walk around naked then?"

Sirius turned to look at his lover, but Remus cleared his throat sharply.

"I would thank you to spare us the verbal foreplay? Good God, it's been almost two years. Control yourselves."

Hermione laughed, turning back to face her friends.

"Anyway," she said, gently batting Sirius's nose away from her neck as he tried to distract her. "No, Tonks, I'm not particularly worried about Sirius and the half-naked dimbos he photographs. I'm actually more concerned about his editor."

Sirius heaved a sigh and Remus and Tonks got the impression that this wasn't the first time Hermione had expressed her opinion on that matter.

"I don't know why you're worried about Celestina. She's perfectly pleasant," he said.

"Of course you'd think she's "perfectly pleasant"! All she does is praise you!"

"And why is that a bad thing, may I ask?"

"Sirius, darling, I love you and I think you're very talented, but _nobody's_ perfect. And she's your editor! She's _paid_ to tell you how to make things _better_. But she _fawns_ on you and I find it unnerving."

"She does _not_…"

"Wait a minute," Remus said, his brow furrowing. "Celestina Mulligan? Donovan Mulligan's little sister?"

"Ah," Hermione said, her tone slightly clipped as she crossed her arms and sat back against the couch, looking at her former professor. "So you know her."

"I knew her brother," Remus admitted. "She was a first year when we were in seventh year. She was a scrawny little thing with mousy brown hair."

Hermione scoffed.

"She's not so little anymore. She's filled out in _all_ the right places," she murmured darkly.

"I didn't know she was the editor of _Witch Weekly_," Remus said, looking at Sirius in surprise.

"She's the photography editor," Sirius explained. "And I'm not in the least bit interested in her. She's an idiot."

"Truer words were never spoke," Hermione said. Then she sighed again. "But I do trust Sirius. It's _her_ I don't trust but he assures me that they don't spend an enormous amount of time together."

"We don't," Sirius added for emphasis. "And she's a silly little bint anyway. Nothing like the luscious, vivacious, gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home."

Hermione smiled and gave her lover a soft kiss, leaning back against his body with a contented sigh.

Tonks looked at Remus.

"If you would stop getting me pregnant, maybe you could refer to me as "luscious," "vivacious," and "gorgeous" every once and awhile," she said accusingly, her hand on her once-again protruding belly.

Remus laughed.

"But I _do_ call you luscious and vivacious and gorgeous. There's nothing more beautiful to a man than the love of his life carrying his child," he said, leaning over and taking her hand, kissing it tenderly as he gazed at her lovingly. A pretty blush spread over her cheeks and she smiled.

Sirius cleared his throat.

"Speaking of which," Sirius said, smiling as he watched the easy adoration pass between his cousin and his best friend. "That reminds me of why we invited ourselves over for tea."

Both Remus and Tonks snapped to attention, staring at the now-smiling couple in front of them. Sirius took Hermione's hand, both grinning idiotically as they shared their own moment of mutual love and adoration.

"You're pregnant?" Tonks whispered anxiously, as if saying it any louder might somehow make it untrue.

Hermione gave a nod, followed by an involuntary giggle and a big, toothy smile.

"When?" Remus asked, unable to hide his own smile as he watched the look of unadulterated pride on Sirius's handsome face. "I mean…how far along are you?"

"Twelve weeks," Hermione said, eyes shining. "And…well…we have a very important question to ask the two of you."

"You want us to be godparents?" Tonks all but squealed, clamping her hand across her mouth but bouncing in her seat in anticipation.

"Yes!" Hermione cried happily, and the two women jumped up, running to hug the other as the two men chuckled, standing with a little more dignity before hugging as well.

"Oh, we'll be pregnant together for a few months!" Tonks said.

"We _are_ pregnant together!" Hermione replied, to which the two witches threw themselves at each other and dissolved in happy tears.

Tonks pulled away first, wiping her tears with a large sniff.

"Look at me. This is what you have to look forward to, you know. A hormonal mess."

"Sounds amazing," Hermione replied breathlessly.

"Sounds like I'll need to find another place to sleep for a few months," Sirius murmured to Remus.

Neither woman heard him.

"I think I have some books on pregnancy upstairs."

"Oh good! I was going to ask."

"Now you don't have to!"

The two women chattered happily, all thoughts of their men disappearing from their minds as they left the room. Their voices were still vaguely audible as they went up the stairs, leaving Sirius and Remus chuckling quietly. When their footsteps had faded, Remus gave a contented sigh and clapped Sirius stoutly on the back.

"Fatherhood will suit you, I think," he said, heading toward the little-used liquor cabinet for a congratulatory drink.

Sirius laughed.

"If you had told me that ten years ago, I would have laughed in your face. But you're right. And it's all thanks to that crazy, wonderful, brilliant woman up there."

"She's brought out the best in you, I'll say that," Remus agreed.

"I'm just so…_thrilled_ at the idea of having a child with her. _Our_ child. They she and I made. Together."

Remus chuckled, handing his friend a glass of firewhisky.

"Any plans on marrying and making an honest woman of her?" he asked.

"I…I don't know," Sirius said, taking a sip. "I suppose eventually. It's funny…we never actually talked about marriage. It just sort of went from "just us" to "and baby makes three"." He blinked for a moment before looking at Remus. "Is that normal? I mean, for a woman to not even mention marriage?"

Remus chuckled again.

"Are you sure she never mentioned it? I know you, Pads, and sometimes you like to ignore certain salient points of a conversation."

"No, I'm sure of it. From the moment we first got together, I knew that I wouldn't mind marrying her. At first it scared the living shit out of me but eventually…I don't know, the idea didn't bother me."

Remus smiled.

"You're mad about her, aren't you?"

Sirius grinned at his friend.

"Absolutely. Utterly in love with the woman. I don't know what I'd ever do without her."

"Perhaps that's what you should tell her when you propose," Remus hinted, finishing off the contents of his glass.

"Oh, she knows I can't live without her. I need her, Moony. She's like…oxygen. More than that, she's like the blood that courses through my veins. I need her, now and forever."

"Tell _her_," Remus urged.

"Sirius!" Hermione's voice called down the stairs.

"I will," Sirius replied to his friend before calling, "Yes, dear?"

"I need you up here!"

Remus chuckled.

"You better get going. I remember how Dora and her mother were when we were first pregnant with Teddy. I can only imagine how Hermione and her parents are going to be. Or Ginny." Then Remus grinned. "Or Mrs. Weasley."

Sirius turned ashen.

"Oh bloody hell…I almost forgot about that…"

"Sirius! I need you _now_!"

"Coming!" he shouted, before turning to look at Remus with a silly grin. "With her, I don't care about anything else," he said before turning and bounding up the staircase.

_

* * *

2 months before the end…_

Sirius skidded to a stop on the cold marble floor, winded from sprinting up flights of stairs and down endless, impersonal white hallways. The door in front of him read the number he had been told at the front desk and he pushed it open, staring disbelieving at the sight before him.

"Hermione," he whispered, starting toward the partially-curtained bed but finding his way inexplicably blocked by a large orderly.

"I'm sorry, sir, only family allowed…"

"Get out of the way," Sirius growled, giving the man a look so fierce, the orderly flinched. "I'm her husband."

"She's unmarried, sir. You may return during visiting hours but I'm afraid…"

"He's fine," a small voice said and Sirius looked past the man in front of him to see Tonks peeking out from behind the curtain. "He's…he's the father."

The orderly backed away immediately, his face going from anxiety to pity.

"I see. Go on then, sir," he said, and Sirius didn't allow himself to think about the change in countenance as he rushed to the bed.

Hermione looked so small and pale against the emotionless white of her surroundings. Her honeyed curls seemed to have lost their lustre as her chest slowly rose and fell with her breathing. Her eyes were closed, and when Sirius took her hand, her pale skin was cool to the touch.

"What happened?" he asked his cousin frantically. "Why is she like this? When did she get here?"

Tonks, however, was surveying him coldly.

"Where the fuck have you been?" she demanded. "She's been here for seven hours."

Sirius's eyes widened.

"Seven _hours_? Why the fuck didn't you come and get me?" he shouted, standing up straight and facing off against her. "I was just at a stupid photo shoot, I could have left! I came home to a note from Ginny telling me that Hermione was at St. Mungo's and if I could be so kind as to grace her with my presence. What the fuck?"

Tonks took a menacing step forward.

"I went to the office," she said, her voice simmering with as-yet-unveiled rage. "I was told to wait in the lobby. I was there for two bloody hours before your editor came down and told me you were on location and couldn't be reached."

"What? My editor…Tonks, I was _in the bloody building_! I was in one of the studios doing some…idiotic celebrity cover shoot! Why didn't you send Dowen to find me?"

"Dowen couldn't find you, you workaholic prick! He brought back my letter unopened!"

"I don't…I don't understand…" Sirius said, tears pricking his eyes as he looked down at Hermione before looking at Tonks again. "What happened?"

Tonks seemed to guess that Sirius's delay had nothing to do with him and everything to do with what was quickly becoming clear as a meddling and malicious female suitor. Eyes softening, she moved toward him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Remus said she just doubled over in pain at work this morning. He brought her here, then told Ginny and I. We all took turns trying to find you. That's why Ginny's note was so snarky. I think she thought…well…" she trailed off and he looked at her, tears falling freely and looking stricken.

"Do you really think that little of me?" he asked softly. "That I would put my stupid job ahead of _her_?"

"I'm sorry," Tonks replied, having the good grace to look ashamed. "But you're here now."

"_What happened_?" Sirius repeated. "Why was she in pain? Why isn't she conscious?" He looked down at his lover, down her motionless body, then had a frightening thought. "Was this because of the baby?"

Tonks looked away, and for a moment neither spoke. Then Sirius took a deep breath.

"Tonks," he said evenly. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Sirius, I…"

"Don't you dare hold me back! Let me at him! I'll kill the worthless son of a bitch!"

Both Sirius and Tonks turned to see a thrashing, pink-faced, screaming body pulling desperately against Remus as the werewolf attempted to hold Ginny back. Losing his grip, he fell forward, letting the ferocious redhead slip through his grasp. She ran at Sirius, but slid to a stop when Tonks stepped in front of him.

"Don't you start covering for him. I'm going to kill him," the youngest Weasley said in a tone too even for Sirius's liking. There was a homicidal lunacy just behind her brown eyes, and Sirius was suddenly glad that his very pregnant cousin was standing between him and potential disembowelment.

"He didn't know," Tonks said to Ginny. "The messages didn't get to him. His editor…"

"Were you with her? Were you cheating on Hermione, you self-centred…"

"_Ginny_!" Tonks shouted, taking the full-force of Ginny's murderous glare. "He wasn't told. Nobody told him. Do you understand? _Nobody told him_."

"But what about Dowen…"

"Owls can't get through if people intercept them," Tonks interrupted.

"But…"

"Ginny," Sirius said softly. "Do you really think that badly of me?"

The redhead looked at him for a moment before – to everyone's complete surprise – she broke down into sobs and ran to Sirius, wrapping her slim arms around his torso.

"I was just so scared," she sobbed as he patted her back awkwardly. "She's my best friend in the whole world and I was so…so…so _scared_ that she'd…that…that…"

"C'mon, Gin," Tonks said soothingly, prying the frantic younger woman away from the confused animagus. "Let's go get some tea. Leave Hermione with Sirius. She's in good hands."

Stifling a large sob and hiccupping in the process, Ginny simply nodded and trailed after Tonks, shooting an apologetic look to Remus as he stood to the side, subtly massaging the bruises she had given him.

The door closed. Sirius looked at his best friend.

"Nobody's given me an answer," he said. "What happened to her?"

Remus sighed, walking over to his friend and looking at Hermione.

"She lost the baby, Pads," he said solemnly.

Sirius choked, new tears falling from his eyes.

"But…I don't understand…she was fine this morning…"

Remus put his hand on his friend's back in comfort.

"I don't know all the details, Sirius. The healers want to ask her a few questions when she comes to. She's been in and out of consciousness all day." He paused for a second, then cleared his throat. "She, uh, asked for you a few times."

"And I wasn't here," Sirius said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed as he took her hand. "God…what she must think…"

"Actually, when she was told you weren't here yet, she said "He'll be here soon. He knows I need him."

Sirius gave a sob.

"I need her too."

"I know that, Pads."

"Moony…please…leave us for a few minutes."

Remus nodded, and with a final pat on the shoulder, he walked out of the room.

"Oh 'Mione," Sirius whispered softly. "Oh my darling girl. Please. I need you too. Do you hear me? I need you too."

A few hours later, a healer came into the room.

"Mr. Black," he said, that practiced look of detached compassion in his eye as he shook Sirius's hand.

"What happened? Is she going to be alright?" Sirius asked immediately.

The healer cleared his throat.

"In a manner of speaking," he said. "Mr. Black, I'm afraid Miss Granger isn't able to have children."

Sirius's brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry?"

"I was told by Mr. Potter that Miss Granger was tortured viciously by the Cruciatus Curse when she was younger. Am I correct?"

"I…yes, I believe so."

The healer nodded.

"It would seem that the prolonged torture made some irreparable damage to Miss Granger's reproductive system. I'm afraid she won't be able to carry a pregnancy to term, and that even attempting to do so would put both her life and that of her child's in danger."

"So…will she be alright now?"

The healer heaved a sigh.

"We'd like to keep her here for observation for just a little longer, but I'm afraid the emotional and psychological damage will outweigh the physical for awhile."

Sirius looked down at Hermione, swallowing hard. No more words were spoken as the healer checked her vitals before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

"Is he gone?" a croaking voice said, and Sirius looked up to see Hermione's eyes opened, her hand massaging her throat as she tried to sit up.

"Be still, love. I'll prop you up," Sirius said softly, moving to fluff the pillows and rearrange them so she could see him better.

"I can't have children, Sirius," she said softly, looking up at him with big, doe-like eyes. Sirius gave a small smile, kissing her forehead gently.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You just rest now."

She looked up at him.

"Everyone's been telling me to rest. I'm done resting, Sirius. Just talk to me. Please."

He swallowed a sob that threatened to escape, and nodded.

"Alright."

She sighed.

"I can't have children, Sirius."

"I know, darling."

"I'm defective."

"No," he said, leaning down and kissing her gently, holding his forehead to hers. "No, you're not defective. You are a beautiful, wonderful, amazing woman who…who bad things have happened to."

"They said it was the torture, but what if it wasn't?"

"Hush. Don't think like that. What matters is that you're alright."

"Do you want a defective woman, Sirius? I can't give you children. I can't carry on the Black family name, or blood. Do you still want me?"

Sirius looked at her, her eyes wide and filled with tears, her skin pale and her lips beseeching. He took her hand swiftly and brought it to his lips, kneeling on the cold marble floor next to her bed. From his pocket he pulled out a black velvet box – a box he had been carrying for months now – and showed it to her.

"I love you," he whispered, opening it to reveal a diamond set in goblin-wrought silver. "I love you and I don't care if you can't give me a child or if my damn family name continues. I care about you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He took the ring out of the box and put it on her finger. "Marry me."

Tears fell down both their cheeks, and she started to sob, nodding through her pain and opening her arms for him to hold her. He pulled himself onto the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her small body and holding her to him, whispering words of love into her hair as she cried.

Some time later, as the tears slowed and her grip on his now-wet shirt loosened, he looked down at her face. It was upturned to look at him, and in her eyes there was so much warmth and love that Sirius couldn't speak as his heart surged. This woman – this beautiful woman – was going to be his wife.

"Sirius," she whispered, looking into his eyes. "I need you."

Still unable to speak, Sirius merely nodded, and kissed her, holding her and rocking her until she fell asleep.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it._


	3. Need You Now

**A/N: **Alright, the final chapter. I figured this one would be the easiest to update, since it's now finished.

A big thanks to Amy, who looked this over for me & who has been my inspiration for over 2 years now.

* * *

**Part Three: I Need You Now**

_Ice…_

Cool cubes clinked within a bottomless glass, slowly dissolving into the familiar amber liquor, embracing the swirling liquid like and old friend.

_Lifeless…_

Eyes once so vibrant, filled with blazing intellect and mirth stared dully at scattered photographs, irises the colour of tarnished silver. With unfocused and watery precision they stared in tortured reverence, reliving every memory, every perfect moment, in vivid detail within his whirring mind.

_Want…_

Mechanically a large hand wrapped around cool crystal, drops of condensation slipping over his fingers to splash like teardrops on the glassy parchment below. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes following the drop as it slid away to absorb into the table's worn and wearied grain. His eyes returned to that photograph, to the unspeakable sadness in the hazel that stared back, tear-stained cheeks pale and sallow and honey curls dull and tangles over stooped shoulders.

_Emptiness…_

It had been so long; so long since he had seen her face like that, her eyes like that, her body like that. Almost five years and even in that time, he could not look away. Even as his last captured moment of her haunted him, he could not part from his collection of heartbreaking reminiscences; a montage of their descent. From sun-drenched laughter to empty-eyed melancholy, every moment was captured and he relived it over and over and over again.

_Inhale…Exhale…_

He had only caught sight of her for a moment earlier that day, as he was walking aimlessly through the trafficked streets of London. He hadn't been sure at first, but then she turned, the light hitting her perfectly and he knew at once. She had seen him too and in a breathless moment they had locked eyes. In that glance, every frame of their life together had flashed before him, reminding him why he had spent the past five years searching for love and forgiveness he knew he could only get from her. But then he blinked, and she was gone.

_Forget…_

Their last moment together was the only one he had tried too hard to purge from his mind. The only one he would have laid down his life to relive; the one that brought two years of untold ecstasy to a crashing halt, replacing it with blinding misery. But he remembered every detail and found no solace from the imprinted, flickering repetition of that cold, rainy night…

* * *

A chill passed through Sirius's body that had nothing to do with the weather as he clambered out of the Grimmauld Place floo. The library was dark and as he waved his wand to light the lamps, he noticed it was unusually tidy.

Hermione never kept the library tidy.

"Hermione!" he called as he stepped into the hallway, wondering whether they were expecting company and he had forgotten. It wouldn't have been the first time in the past two months that he had forgotten things. There had been a lot on his mind since Hermione left the hospital, not the least of which was getting a new job while simultaneously taking care of his grieving fiancée.

Tonks, Ginny, Harry and Remus had all begged that he stop working for awhile. Merlin knew he didn't need to.

But Hermione wasn't the only one who was grieving. He needed the distraction more than anything.

"Sirius?" a soft voice said from the first floor and Sirius walked down the steps, sliding out of his outer cloak as he went. He stopped short, however, when he saw Hermione in front of him wearing her travelling cloak, two suitcases by the front door.

"Going somewhere?" he asked mildly, resuming his journey down the stairs but not taking his eyes off her as a coil of panic started to form within him.

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes slightly red from what he assumed to be earlier tears. While that was nothing knew, he _did_ know that she hadn't mentioned travelling plans to him.

He liked to think that he would remember a salient detail like that.

"Where are you headed?" he asked, trying to sound casual, "And…er…when do you think you'll be back?"

She looked down at her folded hands for a moment before looking back at him.

"I'm going to stay with my parents for awhile," she said, looking past him as if looking directly at him would make her lose her nerve, "And then…I don't know. I was thinking of doing some travelling on my own. Across Europe. Maybe into Asia. Study magical cultures and different metaphysical theories."

His eyebrows knit in confusion.

"I…I don't think I understand, love. How long are you planning on being away?"

She looked down at her hands again.

"I couldn't say, Sirius, I…I'd rather not put a time frame on it."

Sirius felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"You'd rather not…Hermione, what's going on? Where did this come from?"

"You've known I've always wanted to travel. See the world and learn…"

"Yes, but I assumed we would be doing that together," he interrupted.

She looked up at him.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have assumed," she said quietly.

He blinked.

"Hermione, I don't understand. Really, I don't. How can you just…just _decide_ to leave without warning…"

"It's not without warning, Sirius. You can't have been so caught up with work that you've missed us pulling away from each other."

"Darling, I don't work any more than you do and for the past few weeks, I've probably been working _less_ than you so I could be home with you but _you've_ been working late—" He stopped abruptly and looked at her closely. "Is…is there someone else?"

She looked like he had slapped her.

"Of course not!" she nearly shouted and in a moment of insane cognitive thought, Sirius enjoyed the quick glimpse at the fiery attitude of the woman he had fallen in love with.

He hadn't seen it recently and he missed it.

"I would _never_ cheat on you," she said, eyes blazing. "How _dare_ you think…"

"Do you blame me?" he asked simply, "Do you blame me, considering all this? I've been here, every night, wanting to be with you and you've been gone. You talk of pulling away…but it isn't me whose doing it, is it? It's you. I've been next to you, holding you, trying to get you to at least _talk_ about what happened…"

"Stop. Please," she said, and all at once the fire and life that had filled her face vanished and she was once more the shell of the woman he loved.

"Hermione, what's this all about? Do you want me to stop working? I can do that. I can be here for you, however you want me to."

"Why?" she asked. "Why are you so willing to upend your life for me?"

He gave her a bewildered look.

"Because I love you," he said, as if it were the easiest answer in the world. "Because I want to give you what you need, give you space if you need it, or companionship, to let you be who you want to be because that's what I love most about you."

"I can't do this anymore," she said abruptly.

The chill in her voice left him breathless.

"What?" he managed to choke out.

"This," she said. "Us. It's…it's not working. I need…I need more space."

"More space? What have I done?"

"Nothing. And…and everything…God, Sirius, why haven't you left _me_ yet?"

"What?" he said incredulously.

"You…you've moved past everything so quickly…you take care of me and you don't complain…you say the right thing at the right time, every time. You've created it so that _I_ rely on _you_ and depend on you and what can I possibly have to contribute? I can't even give you a child…"

"I don't care about that!" he shouted, taking a step forward and clutching her hands. "I _never_ cared about that!"

There was silence for a moment and she pulled her hands away.

"You…_never_ cared about that?" she asked softly.

"I…I didn't mean it that way," he said desperately, trying to take her hands again. She took a step back.

"I love you, Sirius. Desperately. And…and _that's_ the real problem."

"How is that a _problem_?"

"Because I love you and need you more than you need me."

He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.

"That is not true."

She sighed.

"Sirius, you are able to wake up every day and go to work. You're able to smile, and laugh, and enjoy your day. You're able to come home and take care of me. We both just lost a child…our ability to make life…and you soldier on as though…as though it didn't affect you at all."

"Of course it affected me. Yes, we lost a child but I almost lost _both_ of you. I wasn't going to fall apart while your health was so fragile, so I decided I needed to be strong for you…for _us_…but that doesn't mean I don't grieve over what happened."

"Who has been strong for _you_, Sirius?"

"That wasn't important to me…"

"It was important to _me_," she interjected, the tears starting to fall down her pale face. "I needed to know that there was something I could still be to you, Sirius. I needed to know that you wouldn't just…leave."

He took a step back, aghast.

"Do you think I'd do that to you?" he asked softly, nausea starting bubble within him. "Do you honestly think I would be that cruel?"

She looked into his face, her own full of tired resignation, and simply shrugged.

"I would rather not find out," she said simply. "Especially now that you don't need me for anything."

"How can you say that when you know I love you more than anything else in my entire life?" he shouted.

"I know you love me, Sirius," she said quietly. "But do you _need_ me?"

"Yes! Every minute of every day for the rest of my…"

"Why?" she asked.

All at once, every answer he could possibly give flooded his brain and he wracked his way through the list, desperate to find the right one.

But in his silent desperation, Hermione saw hesitation.

And it was then Sirius knew why he had gotten that chill when he had entered the library; why there hadn't been books strewn around. She was pulling away for good.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

"Please," he whispered, his own tears falling freely now. "Please don't leave me. I need you. You're my world, my life. I can't…"

"Stop," she said, looking into his eyes with the chocolate orbs that had once sparkled but were now dull and empty.

She pressed her lips to his softly before pulling away and turning to pick up her suitcases.

"Wait," he whispered, and she turned slowly, an unreadable look on her face. That, more than anything, made him certain that he wouldn't see her again and he felt a pain, sharper than anything he had ever experienced, rip through his heart.

He took a deep breath, "One more photograph?"

She paused, then nodded silently. He summoned his camera, but the wait for it was too short as it zoomed down the stairs almost immediately after he said the words.

Swallowing hard, tears blurring his vision, he brought the instrument to his eye, and snapped.

* * *

He didn't need to hear the click of the door to know that she was gone before he had even removed the camera from his face. He had felt it in his bones, in a place mere anatomy couldn't explain. He hadn't needed to go up to their cold, empty room to know that she had been planning this escape for a long while. It became all too clear, all too late.

Life had ceased to interest him after that night. He had quit his job and mounted his own escape; an escape to the bottom of a bottle. On a daily basis he warred with himself to just end it all. Only Tonks, Remus and Harry's pleading had pulled him from the ledge.

Tonks, belly swollen yet again with child, had chastised that suicide was the final, selfish act of a truly selfish man.

Remus had reminded him of his duties as godfather, not just to Harry but to the other little metamorphmagus that toddled around the Lupin household.

Harry reminded him that he was a stronger man than the type of man who resorted to drastic measures.

All three had blissfully left Hermione's name out of the conversation.

So he had survived. A despondent, shell of a man, beaten down to an empty existence, in constant search of a love that could not be replaced. And that was how he'd lived until that day, when he had walked out into the world and with one glance rediscovered the meaning in his life.

He had gone through all five stages of grieving in one afternoon:

Denial that anything significant had happened; it had just been a little glance. Nothing truly important.

Anger with the world and fate and God for allowing his life to turn out the way it did.

Bargaining with whatever deity that would listen for the chance to take it all back – all five years he had wasted.

Depression, seeking solace in glass after glass of firewhisky.

Acceptance had been the slowest of stages and had involved him digging out the boxes of photographs he had shoved in the cellar five years earlier. They had been destined for cobwebs and decay, but there they were, beside the kitchen table, their contents strewn upon the nonjudgmental wood. It had taken really looking, really _seeing_, the descent the woman he loved had gone through and accepting, wholeheartedly, that she did what she felt she needed to do at the time.

Now, five years later, it was his turn.

He wrote four words on a parchment and sent his owl into the stormy night, hoping the missive would reach the hands for which it was intended.

That had been an hour and a half earlier. The owl had returned without a response. Sirius wasn't entirely sure he had been expecting one. The minutes ticked by and for the first time he feared that the tiny, almost nonexistent spark of hope he had been nursing since the day she left would finally be snuffed out for good.

Then there was a knock at the front door.

Sirius couldn't remember a time when he had moved so fast.

Hermione stood there, five years older but still has beautiful as she had ever been. She was soaked from head to toe but he didn't care as he pulled her to him and kissed her as though he wanted to crawl inside her. She responded with equal voracity, the desperation between them causing wild, frantic abandon as they ripped at each others clothes and sank onto the dusty floor.

Afterwards they lay in silence, her head on his chest and his hand playing with the halo of curls that lay tumbled around them. It was as if no time had passed at all; no heartbreak or tragedy, just pure, simple love, free from complications.

But, of course, there had been complications. And they couldn't be ignored forever.

"I don't know if I can forgive you that easily," Sirius heard himself say.

"That's okay. I haven't forgiven myself yet either."

He looked down at her.

"Where did you go for five years?" he asked.

"Everywhere," she replied. "Through Europe, China, India, America…anywhere I thought I could forget about you." She sighed. "But of course, I couldn't. It got to the point that I pushed all emotions away just so I wouldn't feel the pain. I was numb. I thought I was fine until I saw you in the crowd today. And the pain, I can assure you, was acute."

"Good," he said, "Because I've been in nothing but pain for five years."

"I heard. Harry and Remus felt the need to tell me at every opportunity. Tonks was a bit better, but I knew."

"They told me nothing about you."

"I asked them not to. I thought it was kinder that way."

"It wasn't."

"I know."

They lay for a few more minutes before he took a deep breath.

"Was there anyone else?"

There was a pause.

"Not in the way you thought. Not while we were still together. And not for awhile after we…we weren't. Then a fling here and there. I lived with a man in Chicago for a year. A Muggle. He asked me to marry him. I left for England soon after." She paused again before saying, "And you?"

He shrugged.

"A few nameless and faceless one nighters. No relationships. One fling, right after you left."

He felt her tense and after a moment of silence, he knew there was a question burning in her mind. He waited, half-knowing what it was.

"Was it with her?" she asked softly. "With Celestina?"

"Yes."

"To get back at me?"

"Yes."

"It worked."

"Good."

She looked at him then, hair dishevelled and eyes glowing with an odd mixture of pain…and relief.

"Is it too late for us?" she asked softly.

"I don't know. I still love you, but it still hurts."

"It still hurts me too."

"So…now what?" he asked.

She looked at him in silence before taking a deep breath.

"Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all."

The grandfather clock struck. Quarter after one. He was still a little drunk but he felt the loneliness in her voice. He knew he had it too.

He kissed her softly and they lay back against the floor again, muted thunder rolling overhead. They knew the sun would bring the reality, the pain, the resentment, but in that moment, they needed each other.

They didn't know how they could do without the other.

* * *

_THE END_

_Thanks for reading. _

_Hope you liked it._


End file.
